


Honey'd Mead

by DixieDale



Category: Clan O'Donnell - Fandom, Garrison's Gorillas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-02
Updated: 2018-07-02
Packaged: 2019-06-01 10:12:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15140888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DixieDale/pseuds/DixieDale
Summary: War years, sometime after 'Castle With A Thousand Rooms'.   Garrison, his men and Major Kevin Richards - six exhausted men looking for a secure place to spend the night, hopefully getting some rest and sustenance.  They find all that at Hotel Marchant, that and perhaps more, thanks to two bottles labeled 'Firinnemel' - a very special concoction.  Well, they'd always been told the Clan honey'd mead was potent; they are about to find out just HOW potent.





	Honey'd Mead

Back from a mission, finished with debriefing, exhausted, Garrison knew they didn't have what it took to make it back to Brandonshire before they dropped in their tracks, and besides he had a meeting with Richards in the morning. Casino was wounded, not seriously, but HQ medical was swamped, and the guys didn't really trust them anyway, not after a couple of misadventures. When Garrison tried to get quarters for him and guys in HQ Temporary Quarters, same story, no room at the inn.

Well, there was always Hotel Marchant, the owner(s) having a soft spot for the guys, and a quick call confirmed, "we have two rooms in the private section, Lieutenant; the others are filled. There are two beds in each room, a trundle under one of the beds in each room as well. We will hold them for you, of course, put out extra blankets. I'm afraid the larder is rather bare; supply shipments have been interrupted. Our other guests know we'll probably not be serving meals in the morning. Yes, whenever you get here; your men are with you? Then, it won't matter that the main doors are locked; they know how to come and go as they please. And the inner doors as well - tell them it's the Dove and the Lamb, they'll know."

Somehow that didn't please the Lieutenant quite as much as Henri Marchant might have assumed, but Garrison was too tired to raise the subject with the guys. Maybe later. For now he just repeated, with weary resignation, "the Dove and the Lamb, got it." Whatever the hell that meant!

Garrison sent Chief off with Casino to get Casino treated at the little hospital where the Clan brothers worked, stopped in to tell Richards he'd see them in the morning, only to find an exhausted-looking Richards prepared to bed down in his office. His flat had been damaged in the latest round of bombing, he was simply too tired to drive to his sister Julie's place and he'd found a dearth of quarters at HQ as well, so Garrison figured maybe they weren't just being given the run around as usual after all.

Wondering if it was the smart thing to do, he gathered up a bleary-eyed Richards and took him with them to Hotel Marchant. If Richards was a little shocked at Actor pulling round to the back, or Goniff disappearing, only to reappear at the now-open side door, a door that had been firmly locked only minutes before, he refrained from more than just a censoring glare at Garrison, which Garrison went out of his way to avoid. Same with the door on the side hallway off the main hall once they got to the floor Garrison remembered, though this time by the stairwell. Some fast fingerwork and they were in, and Goniff unlocked the door connecting to the next room, pushed the door open wide with a flourish.

Their pickpocket gave a weary grin, a shadow of his usual mischievious one. "There you go, Warden, nice and easy. 'Ow you want to set this up?"

Garrison turned to Richards, "you want to share with me and Actor, leave this room to the other guys? It's not private, but . . . " and a weary Kevin Richards just shook his head, "it is far better than where I had anticipated spending the night, Garrison. That will be fine, and I am most appreciative." 

Casino and Chief got in, bearing a bag and a wicker basket. "They're pretty short of stuff too, but . . ." Casino let his sentence trail off when Goniff gave a quick jerk of his head.

"Casino, Chief, we 'ave a 'ouse guest for tonight," with a slightly warning look, letting them know not to mention the hospital, the brothers, anything else the Major might be better off not knowing. Richards probably knew, hell, did know Meghada used that hospital when she needed care; he probably didn't need to know more.

Chief spoke up, "anyhow, got some bread, couple, three tins of Spam."

Goniff was browsing, "and w'at's in the basket?"

"A friend asked us to take that to Meghada; didn't want to leave it in the car."

"Coo, guys, there's cheese in 'ere, and a bit else; would go good with the other."

"Goniff . . ."

"Ei, Warden, you know she won't mind, specially w'en we've got a guest and all," looking particularly winsome, "especially it being Major Richards and all!" Well, that was true enough, and they all knew it; she'd always shared what she had with them, without hesitation, and they knew this time wouldn't be any different. The discovery of two bottles, with handwritten labels 'Firinnemel' was also taken due note of.

"Mel - that's what was on those bottles we got up in Scotland, wasn't it?" Casino said with a thoughtful, hopeful air.

"Ah, the honey'd mead. Yes, I believe that was part of the name, but the other was something different."

Goniff gently shook the bottles and grinned, "looks like it won't be such a bad night after all!"

If Patrick hadn't been otherwise occupied trying to put a young boy's leg back together, if he had been there to personally hand over the basket, he would have told them. "I'm sure she won't mind if you need the food, but the bottles, no. Those aren't quite the usual; be sure she gets them intact, guys; I mean it - no sampling!" But he HAD been otherwise occupied, luckily for young Danny; whether it was just as lucky for Garrison, Richards and the others, well, you be the judge.

The bread was laid out, the cans of Spam opened and sliced, Casino even too tired to give his usual profane dissertation on its probable makeup and origin, the truly excellent Haven cheeses put on the table and cut into wedges, and the intensely sharp spice cookies. For those Casino did have a comment, after he caught his breath, "she does know these are supposed to have sugar them in em, right??!"

But Goniff had just shrugged, "you know 'Gaida, not much for the sweet stuff; guess Caeide's the same. Got a right tang to em, don't they??"

And those small two bottles opened and a small portion poured into glasses for each of them. "If this is anything like what we got in Scotland, much less what we've heard about Meghada's mother's honey'd mead, Major, it should be pretty potent," Garrison warned Richards.

"Yes, I've sampled Felane's mead, and we are probably lucky there are only two small bottles for the six of us. I remember taking a third, or was it a fourth, shot glass, against Lupan's express warnings mind you - he'd suggested I be satisfied with only one glass for my first trial - and ending up with a weeklong hangover. And that first glass? I thought my head was going to explode when I drank it!"

Casino gave a judicious sip, frowned, "don't seem like this is the same stuff then. Nowhere near as strong as what we got before even. Sweet, good flavor, but not much kick, hardly any at all."

Garrison sighed, "as tired as we all are, that's probably just as well," and they shared out what there was, that being about two and half shot glasses each. When their simple but satisfying meal was complete, they undressed and slid under the covers of whichever flat surface they chose.

*** 

'Firinnemel' - the Clan's 'blessed honey'd mead of true sight'. A gift from the Sweet Mother Erdu from centuries past. A powerful if mild tasting concoction. Not meant as a beverage, but as an aid to walking the Moon Path, an aid to true dreams. Meant to be taken one scant teaspoon at a time, by a woman of the Clan, to the accompaniment of certain cleansing rituals and herbs to allow the gift to channel spirit and mind to a searching for truth. One scant teaspoon, to allow greater access to the mysteries of the here, now and immediate future. Any more, and unaccompanied by the rest of the ritual, time itself was quite capable of being skewed, with past, present and future not being so precisely defined. It was said the one who ventured to take more than that tiny dose might travel far back in time, or so far ahead as to no longer recognize what they saw, or perhaps, in rare cases, see nothing at all. In any case, it was certainly not meant to be taken by exhausted men, neither female nor of Clan blood, by the multiple shot glass. 

GONIFF:  
Goniff twisted and turned on the trundel bed, but soon settled into a deep sleep. He awoke to the sound of the wind calling his name, and he was now at the top of a winding path that made its way steeply downward through a green meadow, large boulders hiding his view at many points. He stretched, shook himself briskly, looked around, and there, high above was a shadow. A really big shadow, something with wings, swooping closer and closer. He found himself moving now, running down that twisting path, faster and faster, that shadow tracking his every movement. Glancing down at his front paws he noted with some vague interest that his fur was golden this time, not dark brown as usual, but while that was interesting, it wasn't nearly as important as keeping track of that shadow swooping lower and lower overhead. He risked a glance upwards to see the craning head and glittering eyes and sharp claws right behind him, and he put on an extra burst of speed. Dodging around the huge boulder in front of him, he found the path ended - simply ended - and the ground just wasn't there any more, only a sheer drop-off to a canyon below.

As he skidded over the edge, felt open air under him, he felt a moment of panic, and then those huge clawed feet latched around him, and then they were tumbling on the grass of the meadow.

"You really are an idiot sometimes, laddie," she hissed at him with fond exasperation through that sharp beak, "you have wings, remember? USE them for something besides decoration next time!"

He gave a slightly embarrassed growl, unfurled his leathery wings and shook them. "I forgot," he admitted sheepishly, as he let his fur melt away, let his body transform back into that pale, wiry form he'd worn for so long. He watched as the Dragon did the same, now letting her long red hair drape over her bare skin, that deep red her only coloring other than her gold-brown eyes now that her green and turquoise and gold scales were gone.

"Well, DON'T forget! At least not if you intend to run off the side of a mountain!" But her annoyance didn't last; it never did with him, and the scolding turned to loving as it always did.

Afterwards, laying back in the sweet grass, watching the clouds move overhead, he wondered out loud, "why'd we wait so long, 'Gaida? I may be an idiot, but you aren't."

She smiled into the curve of his neck, "you weren't ready, love; it came when it was the right time. And speaking of the right time, where do you suppose Craig made off too? He can get into such trouble sometimes. Sometimes I think he could get bloodied looking at a sunrise!"

Goniff had to agree, but "well, remember, 'e would've 'ad to walk the whole way. If 'es not 'ere in a bit, we'll go looking. In the meantime . . ." and she smiled with pleasure as he pulled her close once again.

CHIEF:  
The bed felt good, and the late meal and mead had allowed him to shake that residual tension. He let himself slide into a relaxed sleep, listening to Goniff and Casino breathing slowly and evenly. Somehow, he didn't think there would be nightmares for any of them, not tonight. Now . . .

He'd finished hunting for the day, had a full game bag to show for his efforts. Now he was homeward bound, and his eagerness hastened his weary steps. For so long there had been no one waiting, no home, no place to hurry to; but now, now things had changed, and a smile tugged at his solemn face at the thought. The wards were still in place, so he knew no one had ventured this way since he'd left. They'd each gone in a different direction, he and his brothers-in-spirit, at least those who searched for game, for other food. Not all, of course; some remained at their home, never wanting to leave their treasures unguarded.

He laughed to himself, thinking of the first time they'd made that determination, the indignation their 'treasures' had expressed at that, "as if we were helpless!" Well, that had changed once the young ones had started coming. No, their treasures weren't helpless, but the safety of the children was foremost in their minds, and those who remained behind welcomed the extra eyes and bow-arms. And it wasn't as if all of the women stayed behind all the time; Goniff's 'Gaida was a warrior in her own right, and Douglas's Jess was cunning and quick in tracking her prey and setting a snare, and Actor's Lynn almost as good. Casino's Myra, though, she had no such skills, though she was valued highly for the others she possessed, the comfort she brought to their home, and Chief would not have traded his own Lizzie for any other, even another warrior such as the Dragon. He shook his head at the thought of that one - a warrior, shaman, and more, sharing co-leadership with Craig, just as she and Craig shared the attentions of their mischievious, quick-fingered housemate. They were an odd lot, certainly, but they were family.

He rounded the last corner, and stood as he took in all they had built, the gardens, the corrals with the horses, the sturdy shelters seemingly separate, but joined by tunnels below, other tunnels leading off into the forest and the mountains in case of attack. Not that any such had come, not in all the time they'd been here, but it could happen; it had happened elsewhere, and they had made sure they would be ready, that their greatest treasures could be maintained in as much safety as possible.

Soon, in the springtime, the great Gathering would take place in the mountains, and they would journey as a group to meet with those others of their kind; the older of their children were coming to an age to look at the others, to be seen, all with a view for their own attachments. This could easily be the last winter for them all to be together like this. Some might soon be leaving, others bringing their new mates to join the family here. For now . . . He shifted the game bags to one side, and hastened down to make the most of what time they had, the brothers-and-sisters-in-spirit who formed his family.

CASINO:

{Spam! Sheesh! I'll bet that's ONE thing that's gonna disappear when this damned war is over! YUCK!"}. He wrinkled his nose in disgust, thinking of that heavy oily taste. Well, they'd had the cheese to take away that flavor. Haven sure did know how to do that right, even though he wouldn't have minded some decent meat in that basket instead. It wasn't that he didn't LIKE cheese, especially that sharp cheddar that Haven was making a specialty, but sometimes it seems that's all they got, especially when on a mission - bread and cheese. He shrugged, knowing they were lucky to be getting that, most times. He'd been disappointed in that mead, though; he'd been expecting something a hell of a lot more potent. He was thinking along those lines as his eyelids drooped, and he yawned, and . . .

{"Damn!! This is more like it!"} He took a long look around the room, the row of women lined up around two of the sides. Tall, short, skinny, not-so-skinny, really stacked. Blondes, redheads, brunettes, a few with that hair so black it gleamed. Some pale as Goniff, some rosy and pink, olive-skinned like the women in his family, some bronzed like Chief, the various browns and tans, the deeper tones from cafe-au-lait to some with skin the color of the super strong coffee Meghada brewed. He licked his lips and grinned in anticipation.

A rustle of conversation drew his attention to the other half of the room, and his grin increased to fill his face. Men, pretty much the same assortment as with the women, but with a different appeal. He thought back to his well-diversified collection of reading material he'd had, and took another look around, {"yep, all the bases covered! Now, to figure out just which ones this time!"}

He took his time, looking them over carefully, enjoying the coy or eager, sometimes the aloof or challenging looks he got in return. He didn't hurry; he knew they were all his for the choosing. Still, he'd made a bargain with, well, he couldn't quite remember who he'd made the bargain with, but he'd agreed on four. That should be enough to keep him well occupied. It wasn't that he was greedy, just, well, he had needs, ya know??

He'd made one full circle of the room, thinking, pondering, and was now making the second tour. "Him," jerking his chin at a young man, dusky of skin, black hair with hints of auburn, getting a bold, mischievious grin in response as the young man stepped out to join Casino. That one had been toward the tail end on the men's side, and Casino proceeded to the corner, where the line of women started. He hesitated more than once, but stopped at a slight, rather elegantly built young woman, soft brown hair and eyes, shy smile on her face. "Her," and the young woman' eyes lit up and she came to stand beside the young man in his wake. Further along, he paused at a tall redhead, then shook his head and went on, going through the same process several times before he stopped and looked, looked again at the statuesque blonde with the knowing look in her eye, the look telling him she'd be able to match him, perhaps even more. He swallowed at the amused promise in her face, and nodded, "her". He'd thought about the tiny woman at the far end, the one with black hair braided in long rows but still down to her knees, her dark skin gleaming in the light, but his eyes, for the last several minutes, had been wandering over to the young man, bronze-skinned, dark hair and eyes, overly-solemn look on his face, tight control as if refusing to be a part of this process, refusing to compete for his attention with coy glances. He stood, undecided, til he finally admitted he wasn't undecided; had really made up his mind at the first glance. He gathered those he'd already selected with a quick gesture, and made his way over to the young man waiting with such disregard, as if it made no difference to him. Casino stood there, eyes meeting eyes, knowing meeting knowing, and said in a low voice, "you".

He stood looking at these four, and was puzzled all of a sudden. It seemed as if he'd remembered going through this process before, maybe more than once; but surely if he had, there would have been different choices each time. He'd always liked variety, even in his reading material. But somehow, he knew, that wasn't the case. It was these four, it had always been, perhaps always would be these four.

And he walked away, taking them with him, the ones he'd claimed. Or, the odd thought came to him, as they walked ahead, as he followed behind, was it the other way around? Were they the ones to have claimed him for their own yet again? And with the deep contentment that filled him, the heady sense of anticipation sending a quick shudder thru him, did that even matter? He settled down to watching the smooth sway of those wonderfully rounded hips, that elegant little tush, the taut, strongly muscled backsides, and he shrugged and answered himself with a totally wicked grin, {"probably not so much."}

 

ACTOR:

Actor stretched out on the bed. One nice thing about Marchant's, they made sure their beds were both sturdy and long enough for a man of some height. Even the trundles were of greater than average length, which was lucky since Garrison had elected to take one of those rather than share with either Actor or the Major. That wasn't always, or even usually the case, the beds being that comfortable, of course. Once the war was over and he could resume his previous life, lives, he would make sure any of his residences had such luxuries. Along with a decent library. And a decent wine-cellar, of course. He was preparing a list of mandatory vintages when sleep overtook him.

He awoke in a quiet room, disoriented, slightly dizzy, wondering where he was. It was an elegant if not overly large room, filled with well-made, well-designed furniture, luxurious, even sensuous linens and draperies, fine paintings on the wall. He himself was wearing nightclothes of a fine silky material, rich burgundy in color. The book he'd been reading was waiting on the nightstand, bookmark firmly in place; his pipe in its stand by the finely crafted humidor on the smoking table next to his big armchair, custom made to fit his height. Why did he get the feeling something was missing? He frowned, trying to remember. He shouldn't have this feeling, surely. He had all he needed, all he required, remembering there was a large, exceptionally well-stocked library just down the hall, and a wine cellar of some modest quality. What could possibly be missing?

He turned his head, hearing the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps, then running, and the door burst open.

"Mother says we're to wake you up, that you're being a sleepy-head," the dark headed boy laughed, jumping on the bed to crouch at Actor's side.

The girl, equally dark but a few years younger, giggled, "she called you something else, but I don't think I'm supposed to tell you!" as she threw herself across Actor's chest. "Morning, daddy!" his Antonia crowed, and he put his arms around her and hugged her tightly to him, then reached out to rumple Paolo's hair.

"Good morning to you both as well. And just where is your mother?"

"Right here. You two move aside. If your father is to have his birthday breakfast in bed, like he said he wanted, then I have to have room to put down the tray," she laughed. Lynn grinned at the man now settling himself upright on the pillows.

"Did I say I wanted breakfast in bed?" he asked innocently, amusement gleaming in his dark eyes.

Antonia giggled again, "you did, and Goniff says that's not all you told her you were wanting in bed this morning either, but Meghada hit him on top of his head with her spoon, and Craig yelled at him, so I think maybe he wasn't supposed to tell. Is it a surprise, Daddy? Is Mother supposed to give you a surprise present?"

Lynn's eyes were filled with amusement and perhaps more, "yes, you could say that, Antonia. Now, you two can watch your father eat his breakfast, then it's off to the teaching room for you."

Paolo frowned in disappointment, "we can't wait and watch you give dad his present," and Lynn knew she'd be telling this story to the others, could hear Goniff roar even now.

"No, it's a special present, just between us. You can watch him open his other presents later," winking at Actor as he gallantly refrained from telling his family that he just wasn't all that hungry for breakfast right now, that he just might have Lynn give him that special present right now. No, he settled down to his eggs and bacon and toast, forcing him to eat, if not slowly, then at least not gobbling his food down in an impolite fashion. He smiled to himself, looking at his children, thinking of his Lynn. No, he wasn't missing a thing, he had it all.

KEVIN RICHARDS:

He blinked his weary eyes, gazing around the darkened room. Much more comfortable than the floor in his office, which is where he'd thought to be spending the night. Oh, he could have tried the small couch again, but his back still ached from the last time he'd tried that. He was very certain they mixed a goodly number of rocks in with the horsehair when they'd stuffed the blasted thing.

There had been a time when he'd have been rather insulted at the offer by Garrison to share quarters with him and his men. Well, a lot had changed since that Kevin Richards had first marched his stiff-necked, stiff-backed self up and down the halls of London HQ. Funny, how the war had changed him, his outlook. Whether that was a good thing or not, he had once wondered seriously. Now, he was inclined to think while it may NOT be good for his continuing on as career military after the war, for him, as a man, an individual, it was a very good thing. He found he actually liked the new Kevin Richards quite a bit more than he had the other, though he'd not questioned his liking or not liking himself, not in the earlier days. He spared a thought for the men sharing this room, those in the room next door. Once, they wouldn't have thought to invite him to partake of what comfort they'd found; once he would have been appalled at the idea of accepting such an invitation. No longer. Now they had far more common ground than he could ever have imagined. Now . . .

He was on a bridge. He didn't have a clue why he was on a bridge, what was on either side, or why the bridge seemed to glisten and glow in the darkness. He used to have all the answers; he remembered that, though now he couldn't have said what those answers were, or even what the questions were, and he thought the one was rather useless without the other.

Go ahead, turn about and go back to wherever he'd come from? Stay here, perched like a sparrow on a wall? He really was getting tired of making decisions. So, alright, ahead, march; that seemed as good as anything else, though he wasn't so positive a little later when he reached the end and found not a road, not even just a path. No, damn it, there had to be several paths, some leading off to each side, one broad road straight ahead, and even a couple of little goat-trails trickling off here and there.

"More bloody decisions!" he grumbled, rolling his eyes in exasperation. "And they didn't even bother to put up road signs." But as he looked, he could see the faint writing on each possible way, now growing brighter so that he could read it quite well. He wasn't sure that really helped though.

"So, the big broad path says 'Colonel Kevin Richards, bachelor . . . '." He paused when what had seemed to be perhaps descriptions turned into obituaries, some only a few words, some quite lengthy. A couple brought a disappointed frown to his face, "name, dates, that's all; seems there should be something more!" One brought a stark "NO! I'll be DAMNED if that's going to happen!" and another wasn't much better. There were just certain words you didn't want on your tombstone. One or two brought a thoughtful look, one a look of intense longing, a couple a look of sad but resigned acceptance.

Carefully he read them again, thinking of all each one promised, the good and the ill. Somehow he knew this was a choice that, once made, couldn't be stepped away from; he also knew that he couldn't delay for long, that he must make a choice or one would be made for him, perhaps one he would have given almost anything to avoid. He read those last three again, the ones that pulled to him, and squaring his shoulders, stepped firmly, boldly out on the path he had selected. No, it might not be the one he would have chosen earlier in his life, but now, with the man he had grown to be, this was the one he'd stake his future on.

The light was growing now, and he could see there were others waiting ahead, waiting to step onto this pathway with him, and he found himself moving more quickly, eager now to greet them, the ones who would share his future. Deep in his sleep, a smile of utter contentment and peace came to his weary face, and he slept without further dreams until morning's light.

CRAIG:

He was too tired to sleep, so he went back over what had gone right, what had gone wrong on the mission. Then he spared a thought to Kevin Richards, suppressing a chuckle at the once so straight-laced Major now sharing a room, well, two rooms, with him and his group of rascals. A quick frown flashed across his face, {"the Dove and the Lamb?? Do I really WANT to know what the hell that means? Or why and how the guys know to slip in and out of here and Marchant seeming to think nothing of it? No, probably not."}.

A thought back to the mission, that moment when he thought sure Chief was going to get shot, point-blank range; that next moment when he'd been equally sure Goniff was going to get his head blown off, diving to push Chief out of the way. One a man with so much untapped potential, so much capacity to learn and grow, the other a man hiding so much of who he was and what he was capable of. Sometimes Craig found it all exhausting, trying to keep track of who everyone appeared to be, had the possibility of becoming, were but were trying not to let anyone else see. {"Like looking thru several pairs of glasses, all different lenses, all at the same time."}.

Goniff alone was enough to confuse the hell out him without all the others. That little performance back at the Mansion, after they'd gotten Meghada back from her enforced stay at that little resort at the behest of that Nazi scientist - Garrison DID give a low chuckle now, remembering Actor's face as Goniff let loose with that little spiel on Lord Byron and Lady Caroline Lamb. Irreverent, certainly, utterly disrespectful but displaying a knowledge that floored everyone in the room, except perhaps Meghada. ('Castle with a Thousand Rooms')

{"Goniff, you're going to drive me mad one of these days, you know that?"} straining to hear that faint muttering from the next room, rather disappointed it was too far away for him to do so, Casino's snores, not to mention Actor's and Richards', drowning out that sound. He didn't get to hear it very often, just occasionally on missions when they were trying to catch a few minutes precious sleep; his room at the Mansion was certainly too far away from the Dorm for him to pick up such a faint sound. Still, it would have been pleasant, comforting somehow, would have been . . .

Garrison stood on the crest of the hill, fists positioned on his hips, "Damn it, where did they get to now??!" Craig looked at his watch, yes, a good twenty minutes past when they were supposed to meet. He had gathered their clothes up into a bundle when he'd found them, discarded beside the path. The rest of the team had been where they were supposed to be, and had been directed back to home base. Goniff and Meghada? Not so much!

Of course, those two, half the time they found a reason to lag behind, dilly dally around with a chore, find some little nook or alleyway. The others teased them, of course, but left the yelling to Garrison. And yell he did. Oh, they'd invited him to join them, on many an occasion, but as he'd explained, first patiently, then with some severity, as long as he was wearing that uniform, that just wasn't a possibility. They'd seemed faintly disappointed, but not to the extreme, enough Garrison sometimes wondered if they were really serious in their invitations. Since he had no intention of accepting those invitations, that thought shouldn't have made him sulky, but it did. And his refusals didn't seem to upset them, but Meghada had seemed almost pitying in her glances, though Goniff seemed more annoyed than she did. Garrison had gotten a lovely little lecture, "don't sleep in the ruddy uniform, now do you? Or maybe you do; maybe you're like Major Richards, the uniform growing into your skin to where you can't get it off anymore." Yes, Goniff had been more than a little annoyed. 

Pulling his mind back to his missing twosome, he looked over the ground for tracks before he remembered that really wasn't all so helpful, not these days, not now that Meghada and Goniff had decided to shed some of the restrictions they'd previously been under.

Well, that was different, of course; HE was an officer, it was just EASIER for them, even though for him it was a uniform while for them it was, well, something . . . Oh, well, it was just different! He noticed a rabbit sitting on the verge of the road, looking at him rather peculiarly. 

"Wonder if it's because I'm standing here talking to myself? Or," and he paused, "maybe because of what I'm trying to make myself believe." Actor, Casino, Chief, they'd each talked to him, and Craig knew none of those three would raise an eyebrow if he decided to shed the uniform, even if just sometimes. "Still, it's the principle of the thing," he told himself, only to have the rabbit scootle his backside and deposit a few pellets in the grass. "Thanks, I wasn't really asking for an opinion, you know!" Garrison told the small furry creature. Though, come to think of it, it was a pretty succinct and knowing one, and the look in the rabbit's eyes told him "yeah, it was, wasn't it??!" before it hopped away.

Moving along, he saw them then, settled into the soft green grass, "naked as jaybirds, the pair of them!" he said in some aggravation, even knowing they had to be that way before they shifted, and naturally would be when they shifted back. He strode quickly toward them, intending to give them a firm talking to. Somehow, as they saw him, the welcoming smiles on their faces, his pace slowed, more and more, til he was stopped, just looking at them. Then, he started walking again, quickly, as his fingers made quick work of the fastenings on that uniform, that ever-so-constricting uniform, til he was as bare as they were by the time he reached them. He dropped his clothes in a heap along with theirs, and let their hands pull him down into the soft green grass, and took time only to answer Goniff's soft, "and w'at kept you?"

"Stopped to talk to a rabbit. Smarter than you'd think, rabbits." and then there were no more words, not for a long time.

 

***

Morning came, soft and rainy, but with no dreggs of nightmares to deal with, no hangovers either, and when Marchant discovered he DID have food enough to feed them breakfast, there were smiles all around. Afterwards, sipping weak coffee, wishing for some of Meghada's melt-the-spoon version, Garrison asked, "everyone sleep okay, feel rested enough to start back to the Mansion after the Major and I finish talking?"

He got bright nods and a cheery, "yeah, slept real well, Warden; 'ad a funny sorta a dream, but not a bad one. Just funny like," from Goniff and the others admitted their dreams had been interesting, if not funny.

"Nothin bad, just like Goniff said," Chief agreed, though Casino had a wide grin that made those think his dreams hadn't been bad at all!

"I must say they are right, Garrison. Interesting dreams, most interesting. Well worth thinking on," Richards added with a thoughtful air.

When they delivered the basket, now empty except for a couple of napkins and two empty bottles, they noticed the rather odd expression on her face, it getting even odder when she heard just why the bottles were empty.

"And you feel alright, the lot of you? No bad dreams from the mead?"

They looked at each other, then back at her, shrugged, "No, nothing bad, a little odd maybe, but not bad," and wondered why she'd turned a few shades paler and sat down so suddenly.

But Goniff cleared that up on their way back to the mansion, "probably just 'ad a 'eadache coming on. Noticed when she talks to us sometimes a 'eadache just seems to come on right quick."

And Meghada really wished she'd had the nerve to ask them about their dreams, but decided she was probably better off not knowing.


End file.
